ALBUM REVIEWS
Victoria Canal’s debut album feels deeply. ‘Slowly, It Dawns’ sits with the emotions you stumble upon in your mid-20s, as the Spanish-American, London-based artist told NME in her Cover interview. Whether it’s realising “I’m never gonna have everything figured out”, or the so-called “quarter-life crisis”, Canal’s impressive (and Ivor Novello Award-winning) songwriting looks to her past to reflect on the realities of life: the idea that multiple things can be true at once.
Take the sweet, sharp indie-pop of ‘June Baby’, co-written with The 1975’s Ross MacDonald. Depicting the dizzy rollercoaster of summer romance, Canal candidly draws upon contrary emotions, reflecting on heart-racing early interactions (“Trying my best to/Savour your compliments”) and blurry confusion (“You saw me naked/Totally freaking out”). The brutally self-aware ‘Talk’, meanwhile, reflects on the fizzing honeymoon phase of early relationships when you ignore the red flags you feel in your gut (“Hold your gaze/Hoping that it doesn’t break”). It’s set over soft-rock instrumentals that recall alt-pop heroes like Beabadoobee or Clairo.
On early EPs, 2022’s ‘Elegy’ and 2023’s ‘WELL WELL’, Canal spun stories over lilting piano and stripped-back instrumentals. Sonically, ‘Slowly, It Dawns’ builds upon this existing world: the sweltering ‘Cake’, which depicts late-night debauchery (“Fuck the cake!/Let’s go straight to the vodka”) is filled with sticky basslines and woozy layered vocals, its second verse dusted in UKG beats. ‘California Sober’ is a sultry cut built around salsa rhythms and pulsing synths, while ‘15%’ could have been pulled straight from a noughties romcom with its swooning production, its harmonious melodies and instrumental arrangement evoking KT Tunstall.
There are moments of subdued beauty throughout. The record finishes with the one-two punch of ‘Black Swan’ and its sibling track ‘Swan Song’. The two tracks showcase the power in Canal’s songwriting; the former won the Ivor Novello Award for Best Song Musically and Lyrically last year, while the latter is a powerful musing on the fragility of life and forgiveness.
‘Swan Song’ concludes with the poignant question: “Who knows how long we’ve got?/As long as I am breathing, I know it’s not too late to love.” It’s both full of grief and hope, the two knotty emotions filling each other’s gaps in a moving exploration of loss. This duality is a powerful tool in ‘Slowly, It Dawns’: it’s compelling and moving songwriting that manages to depict all of life’s complexities, Canal spinning raw emotion into beautifully crafted songs.
ALBUM REVIEWS
Grandeur sits at the heart of ‘This Music May Contain Hope’, RAYE’s second album, and the result feels nothing short of breathtaking. On this record, the singer born Rachel Keen explores a wide spectrum of sounds across its 73 minute length, moving from emotional ballads to lively funk moments and the jazz pop style she has become closely associated with. It can feel overwhelming at first, yet the magic that comes from RAYE fully committing to her vision makes the experience rewarding from start to finish.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’, a conceptual project about pushing through insecurity and heartbreak, unfolds like a lavish stage production. RAYE takes on the dual role of main character and guiding voice throughout the story. “Allow me to set the scene. Our story begins at 2:27am on a rainy night in Paris. Cue the thunder,” she says during the opening track ‘Girl Under The Grey Cloud’, which arrives with sweeping orchestral strings. Spoken passages appear across the album, helping shape the narrative and giving the project a sense of direction, almost like hearing the official recording of a Broadway show.
With this framework in place, the South London artist allows herself to fully explore the album’s diverse musical palette, and most of the time it works in her favor. Sometimes she fully embraces the theatrical side of the concept, especially during the closing section of the smooth R&B track ‘The WhatsApp Shakespeare’. Other moments are delivered more straightforwardly, such as the emotional slow building ballad ‘I Know You’re Hurting’. She also revisits her earlier dance influences with the impressive house track ‘Life Boat’.
Across the entire album, two things stand out clearly. RAYE’s flexible vocals sound better than ever, and her songwriting feels sharper than it has before. Take the playful highlight ‘I Hate The Way I Look Today’, a swing jazz inspired track reminiscent of Ella Fitzgerald, where she admits “I’m okay to be lonely / If I’m lonely and skinny / I have such silly self-loathing thoughts, it seems”. Then there is the emotional storytelling in ‘Nightingale Lane’: “It was right there, early June / Next to Old Park Avenue / Standing in the rain, I watched him walk away”.
Despite all the vulnerability and emotional struggles explored throughout the record, RAYE ultimately reaches a place of optimism, staying true to the album’s title. She gathers her close friends on ‘Click Clack Symphony’ with support from Hans Zimmer, finds closure with guidance from Al Green on the smooth seventies soul inspired ‘Goodbye Henry’, and reaches toward something greater alongside her sisters Amma and Absolutely on the uplifting ‘Joy’ as she searches to be “free of all the pain and every fear”. After the stormy opening imagery of that “rainy night” and “thunder”, RAYE eventually realizes that “the sun exists behind the clouds”, as she shares on ‘Happier Times Ahead’.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’ shows RAYE performing at her absolute peak. The album feels huge in scale and emotionally powerful, yet it remains rooted in honest experiences and real feelings. Yes, it asks a lot from the listener, but that is also what makes it so special. Every dramatic moment and musical shift feels like RAYE claiming her independence and finally creating music entirely on her own terms.
